Shadow Child
by Tango Dancer
Summary: AU. Post-war, Voldemort rules the Wizarding World. On a visit at Hogwarts, he notices Draco Malfoy acting strange. Then, he and several teachers get the evidence that a student is being abused. Who is it, and who is Draco's mysterious 'Slythindor? HP/TR
1. Chapter 1

**Hello people! Yet another story! I wanted it to be a Oneshot at first, but I think I'll make it a two or three-chapters-long story instead. Tell me what you thought about it. **

**Title:** Shadow Child

**Author:** Tango Dancer

**Summary:** AU. Post-war, Voldemort rules the Wizarding World. On a visit at Hogwarts, he notices Draco Malfoy acting strange. Then, he and several teachers get the evidence that a student is being abused. Who is it, and who is Draco's mysterious 'Slythindor'? HP/TR

**Warnings:**

#AU: No BWL, Lily and James Potter are alive. Dumbledore is dead.

#Potter parents bashing.

#Mentions of rape, abuse, violence, etc.

#Slash, Boy Love, Male/Male relations, nothing graphic, though, and the story isn't centered on the pairing.

#OOC-ness. The Dark might have won, but they're not evil bastards, and do not support Muggle-born and Muggle-genocide.

**I think I said it all... If you have any questions, ask away and I'll try my best to answer. No flames please. Ah, I'm French, not an English-speaker, so tell me about any spelling or grammar mistakes, thank you!  
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**Please review! It only takes two seconds, makes the author happy and inspired, and keeps the plot-bunnies healthy and running around!  
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><p>Lord Voldemort let his gaze wash over the Great Hall, and inwardly smiled in satisfaction. Everything was going fine. The students were animated but calm, the Headmaster, Severus Snape, was eating his meal while conversing with Lucius Malfoy, Dark Arts Professor. The staff had been altered when he had come to power, and several courses had been added to the syllabus, but other than that, not much had changed since the days Dumbledore was Headmaster, and the wizarding community had come to accept that. Not that they had a chance anyway.<p>

Looking to his right, he saw that Rodolphus Lestrange was watching the Slytherin table with a frown, and followed his gaze, curious to see what upset the man so, only to find that it seemed to be Lucius' son, Draco. The boy was the epitome of a Pure-Blood, with his thin blonde hair, silver eyes, aristocratic features and manners, elegant demeanor and top grades. He would make a fine politician, and a wonderful Lord after his father's passing. Then why would Rodolphus Lestrange look so... perplexed?

The Dark Lord looked more closely, and saw that the boy seemed to be discreetly staring at the Gryffindor table, never really looking away, even if only someone very observant would be able to tell. All his attention was focused on the 'Light' table, something which left him perplexed, especially considering the fact that he didn't seem hostile or scornful, rather... was that concern?

Now Lord Voldemort was definitely interested. Who was it that had managed to get a positive reaction out of the Ice Prince of Slytherin, the mighty Malfoy heir, he could only wonder, and immediately tried to follow the boy's gaze, only to find that he was rising and making his way out of the hall.

"My Lord?"

He turned to Lucius.

"Your son seems to have an interest in a Gryffindor, but I know not who. Would you happen to know anything about this?"

The blonde looked surprised.

"A Gryffindor? I have trouble picturing Draco harboring anything other than sexual interest in one of them, and even so, I thought he had already... got each and every one of them in his bed. The ones he deemed worthy enough, that is."

The Dark Lord rose an eyebrow.

"So you do not know either? How interesting..."

"My Lord?" The aristocrat said.

"There was no lust or scorn in your son's eyes, amazingly enough. I would say... concern." Blonde eyebrows shot up, and Voldemort almost laughed at the similar reactions from the rest of the staff. "I must say I find myself... curious."

"I was... unaware that Draco had any such interest." Lucius said slowly, before turning to his long-time friend. "Severus?"

The Potions Master shook his head.

"I am afraid my godson has shared nothing of the sort with me."

Voldemort hummed thoughtfully.

"Well," he concluded, "we can only wait and see. I am sure between all of us, we can catch the one who got his interest, and see what is so fascinating that they would attract a Malfoy's attention."

The others nodded, and a spark of excitement ran through the Head Table as an unspoken challenge passed around. Whoever found the object of Draco's concern would be considered the winner. And anyway, they were all curious now.

o-O-o

So started the surveillance of Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin. The young man was brilliant in class, witty, sharp-tongued and proud, always quick to put the Gryffindors down a notch and rubbing their defeats -in the war and academic matters alike- in their faces. Exasperatingly enough, they never managed to catch the person whom he had been casting glances at on the first night, and had grown incredibly frustrated by the end of the first week of classes. And that's when, as they were ready to give up and just interrogate him so that he spill the beans, something happened.

They had been walking down the second floor corridor late one night after a staff meeting, when they smelt a strong odor.

"It smells like several potions in brewing..." Severus muttered.

Eyebrows shot up at that, and they looked at each other, before following the trail to a large set of double doors.

"That's the girls bathroom!" Lucius Malfoy exclaimed, shocked.

They entered, taking down several powerful notice-me-not charms and wards, only to find three cauldrons filled with potions in the making. The Headmaster stepped over to them to see what was in there.

"Blood-replenishing potion, Skele-grow, and Pain-numbing potion."

"This sounds like potions an abused child would brew." Rabastan Lestrange commented.

"Most likely a Slytherin, then." Theodore Nott Sr said. "But why not come to us? They know we would do something."

"And I haven't seen any sign pointing to abuse amongst my Slytherins this year." Lucius remarked, before looking around with a questioning look. "Anyone?"

They all thought for a moment, then shook their heads.

"And in the other houses?" Voldemort suggested.

Same answer. They all came up with a blank.

"Who, then? Those are all very advanced potions, and..."

"Someone is coming." Voldemort said, quickly mending the broken charms and wards on the door so that their intrusion wouldn't be detected.

They all disillusioned themselves and hid in a corner of the room, taking advantage of the shadows, ready to see who would be out of bed at that late hour, and make such potions while hiding their need of them right under the nose of a mostly Slytherin staff.

The door opened.

They held their breaths as a silhouette stepped in and closed the door, before barely holding back their gasps at seeing the familiar face of the Malfoy heir as he stepped closer to the cauldrons and checked on the potions, stirred the blood-replenishing potion, added an ingredient to the Skele-grow, and just nodded in approval at the Pain-numbing solution. He took off his cloak and glanced at his wristwatch, before pulling out a mirror, and whispering something they couldn't catch.

"They're good. I added the vipertooth fang to the Skele-grow, it should be ready in about two weeks. And I stirred the blood-replenishing potion. I'll bring you a vial later."

"Thanks." A soft voice answered from the mirror. "I'm sorry you had to go through all that trouble."

A sad smile graced the features of the younger Malfoy.

"Oh, come on, it's the least I can do. After everything you've done for me..."

A pause.

"Are you sure you still don't want me to tell anyone?"

A sigh informed the hidden adults that this wasn't the first time they had this conversation.

"Please, Drake. It wouldn't do any good."

"I still don't understand why." The aristocrat said stubbornly. "My father would be furious if he knew. I bet he would even offer to take you in. Hell, even the Lord would go mad with rage!"

There was a soft, bitter chuckle.

"The Lord has far better things to do than care about someone as useless as I am. And as for your father, you know my opinion on that matter."

"Ha-"

"No, listen to me, Drake."

"No, _you_ listen! If this goes on any longer, you're going to get killed!"

A pause, then a murmur.

"Well then, I'm sure I'll be better off not having to live anymore."

"_What_?" Draco screech, standing up abruptly. "Now you listen to me, you stupid Slythindor! You're not going to die! And especially not at the hands of those... those _things_! I won't allow it! I forbid you from dying! Do you understand? You'd better understand! You are to live until you die of old age, but never like that! Am I clear?"

There was muffled laughter from the mirror.

"Crystal." The voice gently said. "Drake..."

"What?"

"I -I think without you..."

The young man gave a smug smirk.

"I know, I'm awesome."

"Shut up, you!"

Draco snickered.

"Careful, Slythindor, one never knows what terrible means of vengeance I could come up with. I might let something slip to my father..."

"NO!"

The Slytherin instantly sobered up.

"Sorry. Just kidding."

"It wasn't funny."

Draco scowled and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I still don't..."

"Please, Drake... Let's not... I'm tired, I don't have the strength to fight with you right now."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I know you wouldn't."

The aristocrat ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up, and there was a gentle laugh from the mirror.

"You should leave it like that all the time."

"I'm not having this discussion with you through a mirror of all things." Draco scowled. "Anyway, the blood-replenishing potion is ready. I'll slip it to you through the usual means. Do you need anything? Bandages?"

"No, it's okay. I mastered the spell yesterday."

"Finally!"

"Yeah, finally. It's far better than having to steal it from the infirmary."

Silence.

"You should go to bed, Slythindor, you look like shit." Draco said with a gentleness the Death Eaters and their Lords almost choked at. Never had they seen him with such a caring look.

They could almost see the other scowling as he answered.

"Well, not everyone can have your angelic face, Mr Pure-Blood!"

The blonde rolled his eyes but said nothing.

"Come on, get some rest. I'll put the potion in the usual spot before going back to the dorm."

"Thank you."

"Good night, Slythindor."

"Sweet dreams, Drake."

He put the mirror back into his pocket and turned to the cauldrons. After filling an empty vial with blood-replenishing potion, he cast an unbreakable charm on it and left through the door, leaving a bunch of confused Dark Wizards with unanswered questions begging for solutions in their heads.

And so they resumed their intense but discreet watching of the Malfoy heir, so that they would find who was the abused child who had managed to get such affection from the usually cold young man, and had earned the peculiar title of 'Slythindor'.

o-O-o

"Look."

Lucius, Severus and Voldemort stopped at Rodolphus comment, and followed his gaze. The man was pointing at a lithe body a few steps ahead of them, half-hidden in the shadows of an alcove, leaning against the wall as if it was the only thing keeping him up. The hallways were deserted at this hour, all the students being at Hogsmeade, and they were surprised to find that someone had chosen to stay at the castle instead of going and having fun at the village.

The boy was bent over, his fingers very white on the stone, and his whole frame tense as he coughed, his breathing reduced to a mere wheeze. It wasn't pretty to listen to, and Severus was about to step in and make sure he went to the infirmary when a sudden noise of running footsteps made him change his mind. Glancing at each other, they once again disillusioned themselves, and stepped forward quietly, making sure that they wouldn't be heard as they came closer to the obviously hurt boy.

The hurried footsteps were coming closer now, and they would see who it was any minute... The boy, who was still back to them, clasped a hand over his mouth to muffle his coughing and breathing, and flattened himself against the wall, trying to blend with the shadows.

"Hadrian!"

Draco's blonde head came into sight right after he had said the name, and the boy slumped down the wall in relief as he let go of the breath he had been holding.

"Hadrian!"

He skidded to a stop in front of the sitting boy and fell to his knees, cupping his face between his palms and raising it so that they would be eye to eye.

"Salazar, Slythindor, you're burning!"

"I'm okay...I'm okay... Drake." The voice was the same melodious tone they had heard through the mirror, though it was interrupted by coughing fits and raspier than it had been before.

"No, you're not okay!" He handed him a vial. "Here, take this. I made it myself. It'll at least give you some energy to hold on until the last potions are ready."

The boy rose a shaky hand to take it, but it slipped through his fingers, and would have crashed down on the stone floor had Draco not put his Seeker reflexes to good use and caught it right before it shattered. Slowly, he cradled the back of the other boy's head in his palm, and rose the glass vial to his lips.

"Here." He whispered gently. "Take it slow."

He fed Hadrian the potion, before setting the empty recipient down beside them.

"Better?" He asked after some time.

The dark-haired Gryffindor nodded.

"Thank you."

"Good thing I decided to move up our meeting, isn't it?" The blonde teased.

"Yeah."

They sat there for a while, neither saying anything, before Draco stood up resolutely.

"Hadrian, we can't let this go on." He rose a commanding hand to prevent the other from protesting, and he shut his mouth. "Look, I know what I said, and all that, but this has gone on for long enough. For Merlin's sake, Slythindor, you were on the verge of dying in the train! It has been getting worse and worse over the years, and I don't want to lose you! And the fact is that I'm pretty sure you won't make it through next summer if you're sent back there."

Silence. The four adults would have loved to see the other's face, but it was concealed in the shadows, and the only thing they now knew about him was that he was a Gryffindor named Hadrian. Pretty vague, though there must not be lots of boys with that name in the Red and Gold House.

"It's only for one more year, Drake. Two months. Two little months, and I'll be free."

Silver eyes flashed angrily.

"But look at yourself!" He exclaimed with a wild gesture. "You're barely clinging to life, and that's thanks to all those potions! How long did it take them to do that to you? Three weeks? Please, Hadrian! Let me do something about it! Please! Every year since I met you I've seen you come back worse off, but this time... you wouldn't have made it, Slythindor. You wouldn't. Had I not found you... had I not had the right potions... Please, Hadrian... don't make me betray my word."

There were tears on his face by the end of his tirade, and they noticed that while his first outburst had obviously frightened the Gryffindor, who had shrunk back to the wall, the rest, said in a much softer voice, had apparently drawn him out of his terror.

Slowly and painstakingly, he rose and stepped forward, stumbling with each hesitant step he took, and steadying himself with the cold stone of the wall. Each step he took made him edge closer to the light, and to the instant they would be able to see who he was. He stepped into the light, first the tip of his shoes, then the bottom of his pants, his legs, his torso, his neck, and finally the upper part of his body.

Another step...

And for the first time they saw his face.

They couldn't hold back the gasp, and could only thank Salazar they had been smart enough to foresee such a case and put a silencing charm on themselves. Because the boy was the most beautiful creature they had ever seen.

Wavy black hair fell down to his chin in soft curls, framing a soft-featured face with eyes the characteristic shade of dark blue all Blacks possessed. High cheekbones, a lithe body, he was perfect, and he seemed to ooze light and purity. He would have been perfect, had it not been for the obvious shimmer of a powerful glamor spell surrounding his small frame. How none of them had ever noticed him before, they would never understand.

He stumbled as he came closer to the Malfoy heir, and caught himself on the blonde's shoulders, his breathing erratic and shallow, too quick to be healthy, and they immediately noticed that he was pale as death. Obviously, he was in a lot of pain. But he ignored it, in favor of just sliding his arms around the taller male's shoulders and embracing him gently.

"Don't worry so much about me, Drake. I am so very grateful to you for everything you've done for me. I'm tougher than that, you know... I won't fall so easily."

Draco hugged him back tightly, but stepped back when the boy hissed in pain.

"No you're not. They made sure you wouldn't be strong enough to endure this and survive. You're half-dead as we speak." His hands on Hadrian's shoulders, he looked the boy in the eye, seriously. "I can't let you do this to yourself anymore, Hadrian. We're going to the Headmaster."

He started to turn around, the other's petite hand firmly clasped in his, not seeing how the blood had drained from the Gryffindor's face at that, and he was biting his lip not to yell in pain.

"No... No, Draco, please. Please, please, Draco, I'll do anything! Just don't! Don't say anything!"

The Slytherin Prince turned around, his features cold, ready to take him to the Headmaster's office forcefully if need be, but his expression changed immediately when he noticed the agony his friend was too slow to conceal, and he let go of his hand as if he had just been burnt.

"You must be kidding me... Your hand too?"

The boy stepped back, shaking his head with a terrified look on his features, eyes full with pain and his hand cradled to his chest.

"Show me!"

Hadrian looked like he had just been slapped in the face, but finally extended his hand and closed his eyes briefly. The glamor spell fell away, revealing his hand in its true state. The watching adults gagged. The fingers were bent at odd angles, bones sometimes sticking through the skin, bruises everywhere, and the wrist was thrice the size it should be, especially considering the general build of the youth.

Draco turned green.

"Hadrian..."

Voldemort had had enough. He walked over to the corner of the corridor, canceled any spells he had on him to hide his presence, followed by the others, and just made his way down the hallway, right in the two boys' direction.

"Well, what do we have here? Consorting with Gryffindors, young Malfoy?"

The blonde held his gaze for a few seconds, just so as to show that he wasn't afraid, then bowed respectfully, mimicked in that by the other boy, who stuck to the shadows behind him, and had slammed the glamors back up at the first signs of interruption.

"My Lord. Not really. We were just talking about the Charms assignment." He looked at the three other adults. "Lord Lestrange, Headmaster, Father."

The Dark Lord rose an eyebrow.

"Really? Well, it seems to me that you do good to ask your little friend over here, he seems to have mastered that part of the syllabus."

The boy blanched, but said nothing.

"Take off the glamors, boy."

The Gryffindor looked up.

"Pardon me, My Lord, but I'd rather not. I'm ugly, you see, and I wouldn't want you to be offended by the sight of me in my true form."

Lucius couldn't help it, he snorted, and so did Rodolphus and Severus. This was the poorest excuse ever, and yet, he said it with so much conviction that it was hard to doubt him. Lord Voldemort, however, wasn't fazed in the least bit, and only rose a questioning eyebrow.

"Oh, really? But I still gave you an order, boy, and you will obey me. Unless you want me to do it myself, that is."

Navy blue eyes darkened, and the boy stubbornly rose his chin despite the obvious pain that caused him, as he did his best to stand without help.

"With all due respect, My Lord, I'd rather they stay where they are."

The ruler of the Wizarding World smirked in appreciation of the sheer willpower the Gryffindor was displaying, and nonchalantly pointed his wand at him, only to have his spells blocked. Draco paled as he noticed how far his friend was going, but he didn't have the time to say anything as his father had already dragged him out of the way of the two duelers. Neither spoke a word, but their spells were all perfectly executed, and had it not been for the youth's wounds, it would maybe have lasted far longer. However, as it was, Hadrian was in the middle of a complicated wand movement when suddenly, he stiffened, his wand fell from limp fingers and clattered on the floor, before his eyes rolled back in his skull and he collapsed.

The Dark Lord was quick to react, though, and caught him before he could hurt himself anymore by hitting the cold stone. Laying him down on the hallway floor, he waved his wand in an intricate pattern, canceling any and all glamors on the boy.

"Salazar!"

A unanimous, horrified exclamation.

The boy was actually far too thin to fill already small sized clothes, and was pretty much floating in them. He was covered in bruises, cuts, wounds and welts. His uniform was soaked in blood, and his limbs were all broken at least once, joints swollen and arms bent at an odd angle. How he had managed to drag himself to classes like this for the first two weeks of school they didn't know, but...

Draco had the answers.

"Who is he?"

The boy looked at the Dark Lord, then at the unconscious body of his friend, and closed his eyes briefly, before looking up determinedly.

"Harry Potter."

That caused a row of raised eyebrows.

"Potter? Surely, you can't mean Lily and James Potter's son! He looks nothing like them!"

The blonde looked conflicted, obviously wondering whether he could reveal what he knew or not. Rodolphus was quick to solve the matter, though, and just cast a spell on the boy.

"_Familia revelio._"

A parchment appeared, and they glanced at it, only to gasp as they took in the family tree drawn on it. It read:

**Hadrian Azrael Black**

**aka 'Harry James Potter' **

**31 July 1980**

**son of: **

**Lily Potter née Evans **

**and **

**Regulus Arcturus Black **

"A Black?"

"Well, he does have the family looks." Lucius said.

"But why didn't he ever come to us?" Rodolphus wondered.

"Most importantly, where do those wounds come from?" Severus said.

"Draco?"

The young man turned to his father as they walked, the Dark Lord carefully levitating his friend's body behind them.

"He was... a mistake." He swallowed. How could such a beautiful youth be a mistake? "Potter hates him because he could never have a child with his wife, and therefore has to keep him if he doesn't want the Potter name to die out. And his mother hates him too, because her husband scorns her because of what she did, and his presence is a constant reminder of that. He looks too much like Regulus, like a Black. A dark Family."

Silence.

"Why did he never tell anyone?"

The blonde lowered his head.

"I think... I think he loves her anyway. And he fears the two of them too." He paused, gazing absently at the floating body. "Hadrian is a very intelligent person. He knows what they are capable of, I think, and he fears that were he to seek refuge with someone, that person would be endangered because of him. The Potters don't want their shame exposed to the world. I think... I think they'd rather kill him than let anyone know. And so he protects others over himself."

"That's stupid."

"He's a Gryffindor." Severus muttered. "What did you expect?"

"I am still curious as to how he managed to go unnoticed for all those years, and walk around like that right under our noses. We should have known... and wouldn't his dorm-mates have noticed?" The Dark Lord glanced questioningly at the youngest Malfoy as he laid the beaten boy on an infirmary bed, calling the nurse at the same time. Draco shook his head sadly.

"Hadrian doesn't have any friends. For one, he's top in all classes, and they resent him for his intelligence. And second, he kept himself aloof so that nobody would notice anything and risk getting hurt, and they took that as him being arrogant. So they shunned him after only three weeks in first year, and forgot him after a month and a half. I'm not sure he didn't use a spell to make sure that nobody would ever see him."

"A notice-me-not..." Rodolphus said.

Draco nodded.

"Yes."

"He must have been extremely advanced... and talented."

The blonde nodded.

"Hadrian is smart. A genius, really. I reckon he understood very early that if he wanted to get away from his... guardians, he would have to make it so that he could be independent from them. And defend himself."

Madam Pomfrey, after recovering from the initial shock of seeing the boy's terrible appearance, was now bustling around, shooting spell after spell and pouring potion after potion down the young man's throat. It took her several hours to stabilize him, but when it was finally over, she collapsed in a chair and gratefully accepted the glass of water Rodolphus was handing her. Taking a long sip, she gulped it down all at once, then sighed.

"Never in my whole life have I ever seen something like that. That boy had almost every bone in his body broken or fractured, heavy blood loss, a heavy concussion, whip scars, welts, severe bruises, and has obviously been underfed for quite a long time."

"How long? Approximately?" The Dark Lord questioned.

She looked at him seriously.

"At least sixteen years."

They stared in shock, but realized with a sinking feeling that there was most likely more, as her eyes darkened.

"That's not all, though."

Draco blanched.

"You don't mean..."

"Yes. There's worse."

She paused to get herself a glass of Firewhiskey and knocked it back, before turning back to the matter at hand and speaking the facts.

"There are words carved in his flesh. Magically. Meaning that I won't be able to erase them. And also..." She trailed off once more, choking on the words, as if far too horrified to say them. It took her a moment to regain her composure and drop the bomb, "there was evidence of sexual abuse on him."

Silence.

"_What_?"

It was Draco, but nobody even thought of reproaching him his loss of composure.

"What do you mean, evidence of sexual abuse? Who _dared_?"

She shook her head sadly.

"Exactly what I said, Mr Malfoy. Mr Potter was raped. Multiple times, and sometimes with an object. I must say... the extent of the damage is terrifying." The last words were barely a murmur.

The Dark Lord stepped forward.

"Who?"

"I'd have to make further..."

"Who?" This time, the question had been asked icily.

"James Potter. Peter Pettigrew. If I were to guess, I'd even say Lily Potter was the one guilty for the penetration by object."

Everybody paled, and looked back at the unconscious boy lying on the immaculate bed, black hair contrasting sharply against the whiteness of the pillows and sheets, skin far too pale to be healthy, as it was almost transparent, and they could see most of the veins underneath.

"And he bore with it for all those years... and never said anything..."

Lord Voldemort, Dark Wizard extraordinaire, ruler of the Wizarding World and Immortal, was not someone easily impressed. And yet, he found himself strongly impressed by the young man's cunning, sheer willpower and talent. Achieving glamors powerful enough to hide such injuries from extremely powerful wizards -Dumbledore or himself, for example- in First year wasn't a feat anybody was capable of, and he felt curiosity arise. He wanted to know more about the child, and even more than that, he wanted to take down the monsters who had done that to him.

But first, he had to have a little talk with him.

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><p><strong>So, what did you think about it?<strong>

**Please review! Reviews feed the author and the plot-bunnies!  
><strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Shadow Child  
><strong>By Tango Dancer

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><p><strong>Hi Guys! I have to say: thank you so very much! Your reviews were amazing, it was brilliant to read them all, though I couldn't answer all of them, and for that I'm sorry. I apologize for the delay, but this chapter just didn't want to be written (plus, I didn't have my laptop during my trip abroad, so that a fortnight of writing abstinence T-T), and I only just finished it. I hope you like it as much as the first one. There was one review in particular that needed answers, though, so here they come:<br>**

**_avalonchick5:_ In fact, most of your questions will get an answer in this chapter, except for the one about Remus. Well, sorry Remus-lovers, but our beloved werewolf died in the war in this story. I thought about it for some time and couldn't think of anything I could with him so... But I love him^! And yes, I will be continuing this. Maybe it will even be longer than the three chapters I thought it would be, I don't know. Details about Hadrian and Draco's friendship will be given in the third chapter, I think. Thank you for all your questions, by the way. I'm pretty sure I'd have overlooked all of this had you not mentioned it^^! A cookie for you! **

**Also, someone I won't name sent me an _amazing_ review -I hope you can see the sarcasm dripping here- about how Hadrian's abuse was unbelievable and all that. I'll tell you this: this is fanfiction, not the real world. It happens in a _magical_ world. People have magic healing them and making them stronger. Thankfully, I had 41 people to tell me this _was_ actually believable, plus all of those who favorited the story, thank you all, I love you! **

**Here goes the chapter, dedicated to _help does wonders _for her (?) wonderful review, it came as a light in a really, really bad day. **

**Enjoy!  
><strong>

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><p><span>Chapter 2:<span>

He felt like he had been trampled on. His limbs felt heavy, his head was pounding, his eyes were prickling, and he felt like he had scratched his throat raw when he tried to swallow.

It wasn't nice.

It wasn't nice _at all_.

But Hadrian Potter was a courageous young man and had seen far worse, and so he opened his eyes anyway, only to close them immediately when he was blinded by the light which seemed to be flooding the room.

"Fuck..."

It was unlike him to swear, he usually always kept his composure and always made sure to be polite and graceful in all occasions, if only to give off the image of the perfect Pure-Blood he would have been had his mother not decided to make him a mistake, but this time, he really felt like shit, and his mind seemed filled with cotton.

"Yes, that's one way to see things." A familiar voice said from one corner of the room as the drapes slid shut, and he finally could peer through his eyelids and at the person.

"Drake..." He croaked out, and tried to sit up, only to fall back down on the pillow with a grimace of pain as the blonde skipped over to him and helped him drink a few sips of clear water.

"How are you feeling?"

He closed his eyes briefly as the other Seventh Year arranged the pillows so that he could rest against them while sitting up.

"Fine."

The immediate shift in the atmosphere told him it was the wrong answer, and effectively, a glance showed him that silver eyes had narrowed and darkened in utter rage and fury.

"No, you are not fine. How could you, Hadrian? How could you lie to me all this time?"

"What are you talking about?" He asked, confused and wary.

"What am I talking about?" Draco screeched. "What am I talking about? What do you think I'm talking about? You said you weren't more abused than what I saw! You promised me you would tell me if it went overboard! You said...!"

"I said I would tell you if I felt I wouldn't make it. But it never happened, and I did make it through it every time. I never broke my promise."

The blonde's eyes narrowed into slits.

"Don't you dare go all Slytherin on me, Hadrian Azrael Black. Oh yes, I know all about your origins." He added as he saw the blood drain from the other's face. "Apart from the fact that you had already told me, Lord Lestrange performed a spell on you to show your origins. Seeing as you still go by the name of _that man_ when you look nothing like him, it's not so surprising, but now, your little secret is out."

He stopped. The abused boy had gone so pale he thought for a second he was going to faint.

"Who... who else...?"

"Who else knows? Oh, pretty much nobody, just me, Lord Lestrange, my father, Headmaster Snape and..."

Each name had the Black heir pale even further, and he wondered vaguely how it was even possible when he was almost translucent already. Hadrian's voice was barely a whisper when he spoke again.

"And?"

Molten silver met navy blue.

"And the Dark Lord."

The young man looked positively sick, and clasped a hand over his mouth.

"Are you okay?" Draco asked, concerned.

"Are you kidding me? How could I be okay when the most powerful men of this time have seen me in such a pathetic state!" His voice was a broken whisper, but his eyes remained dry.

"I wouldn't worry about that, Mr Black." A new voice said, and his head snapped up towards the doors of the infirmary. He paled again.

There stood the Headmaster, the Malfoy Lord, the Lestrange Lord... and the Dark Lord, who had just spoken. But he managed to regain his composure, sliding an expressionless mask over his features with practiced ease, and laying his hands in his lap in the most dignified attitude his current position allowed him.

"My Lord." He greeted, bowing his head. "Headmaster, Lord Lestrange, Lord Malfoy."

The four men stepped further into the room, closing the door behind them, and stopped by his bed, before sitting down into comfortable looking armchairs they conjured out of thin air. A single glance to Draco was enough for the young man to excuse himself and leave the room, and Hadrian felt anxiousness twist his gut. They knew, and if his 'parents' ever found that out, they would kill him. But denying it would lead him nowhere with those four men, and he knew better than to play dumb. They just wouldn't tolerate his trying to make them look like they had just dreamed the whole thing. It would almost be like he called them liars. And that wouldn't go over well.

At all.

The five looked at each other silently for a little while. The adults were quick to notice how wary the younger male seemed, his body stiff and his eyes alert even though his terrible injuries had just been healed.

"So, Hadrian Black, is it? We found you in a very bad shape... Mind explaining that?"

How the hell could the man just corner him with a single question? He wouldn't ever say he was abused, but he couldn't lie to them either, and he was far too tired to think properly and find a proper way out. Falling down the stairs wouldn't do such damage, and he would obviously have been tended to by his parents if he lived in a normal family. So he settled for not answering, just gazing steadily at the four men, all the while making sure his Occlumency shields were in place.

"We were most impressed by the quality of the glamors applied on you. Did you ask someone to cast them for you, or did you do it yourself?" The Dark Lord continued.

Hadrian hesitated. But then again, he couldn't really say he had, for the simple reason that they wouldn't believe him after his duel with the man.

"I cast them." He said quietly.

Severus' eyebrows rose.

"An impressive feat, especially if we assume you did so ever since first year... Is that the case?"

Onyx met dark blue, and the boy slowly inclined his head. The adults' faces hardened as they got the confirmation that the Gryffindor had been hiding his suffering for such a long time.

"Why didn't you ever come to us?" Lucius said, in a soft voice completely opposite his usual cold and indifferent demeanor. "Draco is your cousin. I am your uncle, and Narcissa your aunt... We are family... Why not seek us out?"

Hadrian looked up, his eyes guarded, and the blond immediately understood his mistake. Considering his life, the raven-haired teen would never have had a good conception of what 'family' was.

"My parents are considered Light, and well-known for their hatred of anything regarding the Dark Lord, Lord Malfoy. I don't think it would have been... profitable to come to you. Besides, I am nothing more than a bastard to you and yours. A mistake. I have no place in the Pure-Blood circles."

The aristocrat shook his head.

"Even though we don't usually accept that our... illegitimate children carry the family name, we make sure they have a stable and secure life, Mr Black. I can assure you we would have done everything in our power to remedy to your... predicament." He paused. "Considering the situation, I think we could make an exception. If you were willing, the Malfoy family will gladly welcome you into its fold."

Dark blue eyes widened in shock, before narrowing in askance. A few seconds passed before the young man finally spoke, choosing his words carefully.

"Forgive me if I am quite skeptical, Lord Malfoy, but for a second here, I thought I heard you offer to adopt me into your family..."

"That is exactly what I said, yes."

"Why?"

The question had been short, the tone, sharp, cutting. His gaze never wavered from the blonde, studying him, evaluating him, and suddenly, they understood both why Hadrian Black had earned the Slythindor surname, and also, that this young man wasn't afraid to die. He had already come close to death far too often to be fazed by it anymore. If anything, a green light would be nothing more than freedom to him.

"Why indeed." The blonde man said as he leaned back in his chair. "I find that the conditions you have been living in for the past sixteen years of your life are inhuman. Nobody should ever experience what you have, much less a child. Nobody deserves that kind of treatment. It has nothing to do with pity," he added quickly as he saw the boy open his mouth, looking affronted, "but rather with family honor. Wizards pride themselves in their power, purity and especially their values. Children are sacred to us, because they are our future, and abusing one as seriously as you have been, especially one as powerful, beautiful and with such blood as you have." He paused. "You, Hadrian, are the last heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. Your father was killed when he was barely eighteen, your aunts are all married, and Sirius Black was disowned and killed during the war, making you, as the only remaining direct descendant of a Black scion, the last person with the right to claim the Lordship. Your disappearance would be a real tragedy in terms of Wizarding power, genealogy, and purity. It is people like you who ensure the perpetuity of magic. You ally powerful old blood with strong new one. Just like our Lord."

He glanced at the Dark Lord, who nodded in approval. That little speech, however, didn't seem to impress the young man.

"Thank you very much for the offer, Lord Malfoy," he said coldly, "but I am afraid my 'parents' are still alive and well, and have custody of me. What is more, I will turn seventeen in a few months. Therefore, I don't want to bother you with paperwork which would only last for such a short period of time."

The four men couldn't help but raise and eyebrow at the sudden change in attitude. The boy seemed almost hostile now, and was only polite because of their position and titles. Had they been anyone else, there was no doubt that was the point where he would have dismissed them and left. He refrained from doing that, however, and settled on gazing at them impassively, waiting for them to leave.

"I am afraid," Voldemort said, "that I cannot leave the matter. As I'm sure you have guessed, Madam Pomfrey has handed us a complete report on your health, and what she found was most... disturbing." He paused, and looked the young man in the eye.

"Considering the fact that your step-father raped you, along with your mother, and you sported obvious abuse damage, we can't let you in their custody. If you do not accept Lord Malfoy's offer, you will be placed in an appropriate foster family, the choice of which you won't have."

"This is blackmail." Hadrian hissed, never denying anything.

In a sense, it was good that he accepted what had been done to him, and never tried to act as if he deserved it or it was normal, but it was also very disturbing to see that he was so used to it he never even flinched when the words were spoken in his presence. The abuse had become his routine, and they couldn't help but wonder how deep the mental damage was rooted.

"This is done for your own good." The Dark Lord answered quietly. "I have never tolerated child abuse, and will certainly not start now. Consequently, I am determined to do whatever it takes to ensure you have the minimum safety and love a family should provide their child with. As Ruler of the Wizarding World, it is my job to make sure you have everything you need, and I will use all means necessary to reach that goal."

He paused, looking sternly at the young man.

"You seem to get along well with young Draco, and Lady Malfoy is your aunt. They can give you what you obviously never had, meaning a family. You will be cared for, have your own room, three meals a day and more if you want, clothes to wear, and everything else you might need. You will never want for anything should you accept Lord Malfoy's offer. Consider it."

Hadrian didn't answer. Obviously, there was something nagging at him about the opportunity, or else he would have jumped at it. He was smart, he wouldn't let something like that pass if he didn't have reason enough to do so.

"Why are you conflicted, child?" Severus asked with a gentleness none of them were used to hear in his words.

Navy blue eyes looked up at him. He seemed torn between answering truthfully, lying or plain refusing to speak, before finally, a short glance at the blonde aristocrat seemed to decide him to talk.

"I don't want a big scandal." He said.

Voldemort frowned. The boy had eluded the question. Though his concern was genuine, the reason he had voiced was only one of the smallest problems that seemed to be stopping him from accepting.

"I assure you, Mr Black, I have enough power to make sure nobody will hear of it. The whole thing will be on a need-to-know basis, and only the people directly involved in the process will know of it. And I will give precise instructions not to speak about it."

Hadrian hesitated, his eyes flickering between the four men, before going to rest on Lucius. He inclined his head, and they couldn't help but notice how graceful and composed all of his moves were, how aristocratic he was already, even though he obviously hadn't received the education someone with his blood should have been given.

"Very well, then. If your offer is still standing, Lord Malfoy, then I will take you up on it. I apologize for the bother."

The man merely waved the apology away.

"Nonsense, you are family." He stood, and looked at his Lord. "I will go and start with the custody transfer papers immediately, My Lord."

"Very well. I expect a report no later than tonight Lucius. You may go."

"Yes, My Lord."

The blonde bowed lightly, nodded at Rodolphus and Severus, smiled at Hadrian and left. The three remaining adults turned back to the Seventh year, and noticed that though he was doing an admirable job at hiding it, he was exhausted. They rose to their feet.

"Rest, Mr Black. We shall continue this conversation when you feel better."

He waited for them to be out of sight before leaning back down on his pillows and closing his eyes, never noticing the crimson gaze watching him as he did so and fell asleep. The Dark Lord silently shut the door and turned to his two lieutenants.

"He is asleep."

The three men then went back to their occupations, the image of a broken seventeen-year-old hovering at the back of their mind at all times. But there wasn't anything more they could do now other than wait.

o-O-o

"Come on, Slythindor, we're almost there. Have you got all your things?"

Hadrian nodded at Draco and grabbed the handle of his trunk, briefly thanking Blaise Zabini for taking it down the luggage tray above his hand. The dark-skinned boy was extremely tall and towered over his own 5 feet 8 inches, and it was ridiculously easy for him to reach the trunk while Hadrian himself would have had to climb on the seat to get it.

The train slid to a halt, and a glance through the window was enough to tell him they had pulled into King's Cross, and that the station was filled to the brim with eager parents and hyper siblings who couldn't wait to see their missing family members again. It was Christmas holiday already, and the Headmaster had informed him that he was to spend the holiday at Malfoy Manor with Draco and his parents, since the paperwork, though not finished yet, was at a point where a complaint had been filed against the Potters for child abuse, murder attempt and rape on a minor, thus getting a restricting order against them. If they were seen around him, they would immediately get arrested and sent to Azkaban, no questions asked. Not that they wouldn't eventually be anyway, but it would just speed the process up.

Strangely enough, after the infirmary incident and his being found out by the Dark Lord and his men, Draco had introduced him to his Slytherin friends, and if they had seemed a little mistrustful at the beginning, they had quickly taken a liking to him, and he was now rarely seen without at least one of them around. The reason, he suspected, had to do with the fact that Ronald Weasley, leader of the Gryffindor gang and who already didn't like him, had decided that his hanging out with them made him evil and a menace, and thus started to bully him even more than he used to. Meaning that he had gone up a notch and from merely ignoring him or sending verbal jibes at him, to hexing him and physically kicking him.

Theodore Nott had come across such a scene once, and even though Hadrian had been handling it just fine -meaning he just ignored the idiots and cast a shield on himself, the Slytherin had judged it unsafe for him to wander around by himself, and thus established some kind of schedule so that they would all take turns protecting him. He had protested at the beginning, of course, but Pansy had been quick to shut him up, and now he said nothing, but still thought it was completely unnecessary. He couldn't deny, however, that this strange feeling of being looked after and having his back guarded made a strange warmth blossom within his chest.

And it scared him as much as it comforted him.

Hope wasn't something mistakes were supposed to have.

o-O-o

Lady Malfoy, he decided, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had long golden hair falling in gentle waves down her back to the middle of her spine, and sapphire blue eyes very similar to his own, high cheekbones and pale skin, and all in all, a bone structure very similar to his own. Despite his being male and her female, his past had made him small for his age, very thin, and it always seemed to him that he looked far too effeminate for his taste.

But then again, that wasn't something he could change, now, was it?

"Lady Malfoy," he said, brushing his lips over her knuckles, "it is a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for your hospitality."

She smiled at his politeness.

"Nonsense, Hadrian. We are family, it is only natural for me to welcome you into my house. Please call me Narcissa."

"Very well, Narcissa."

He didn't like the fact that she wanted him to use her first name. She was a stranger to him, and an adult, and therefore a figure of authority. As a legitimate child, she was of better standing than him. In other words, she was superior to him in all aspects, and he didn't feel comfortable calling her Narcissa. But refusing would be rude of him, and he would rather die than prove himself ill-mannered and as forgetful of Pure-Blood traditions as his 'father'. So he indulged her and greeted Lord Malfoy, inwardly grimacing as the man told him to call him by his first name too. The corner of Draco's lips quirked up as he watched the proceedings, enjoying the fact that it would be his family who would give Hadrian what he needed so desperately, and save him from the hell he had to go through for all those years, while he could do nothing but watch as he was too much of a coward to risk losing that precious friendship.

And so he followed gleefully as each adult side-along apparated one of them away to the Manor after one last wave at the remaining Slytherins on the platform.

o-O-o

"My Lord."

"Good evening, Narcissa, Lucius, Severus." The three straightened up from their respectful bow. "And where are young Draco and Hadrian?"

"They left to Diagon Alley. Something about meeting Blaise Zabini and the rest of their Slytherin group." The only female in the group answered.

The Dark Lord nodded as an elf served him a glass of fine Brandy, and gently swirled the liquid in the expensive crystal.

"How is he?"

He knew immediately something was wrong, and sat up in his armchair.

"What is it?" He inquired, not showing any of the puzzlement he felt at the genuine concern he felt for the boy.

"He is fine. Physically at least." Lucius answered hesitatingly.

Voldemort rose an eyebrow.

"But?"

"But he behaves the same as the day we officially met him." Severus said. "He obviously doesn't like calling Lucius and Narcissa by their first name, though he hides it very well, and never strays from the Pure-Blood guest attitude."

"In other words, he acts like this isn't his home, and he could be cast out any time." Narcissa picked up, her blue eyes sad. "He obviously doesn't believe we are sincere in our welcome, and expects to be kicked out anytime. He keeps his distance, and remains polite and aloof. He makes sure we get our time alone with Draco, but never with him. He doesn't... he ensures not to be a part of this family."

The Dark Lord frowned, taking a sip of alcohol.

"A fear of attaching himself only to suffer more in the end, most likely." He concluded softly. "How is he with Draco?"

"As usual, I presume." Lucius answered. "Draco hasn't said anything to me. But then again, he could have been covering for him."

"Or Hadrian made sure he wouldn't notice anything." Severus slipped in.

"Well, he _does_ seem more integrated whenever Draco is in the same room." Narcissa said thoughtfully.

"Seem being the keyword here," Severus commented, "that boy is as Slytherin as I am."

Voldemort nodded absently, gazing at the amber liquid swirling in his glass.

"Yes, indeed. I can only surmise the only reason he didn't go to Salazar's House was because of his 'parents'." He spat the last word with barely concealed contempt and hatred.

He had always loathed child-abusers with a passion. Having had a bad childhood himself, he had sworn early on that he would do everything in his power never to let another child go through what he had experienced. And yet, here was a boy, so similar to himself and yet so different, insofar as he had gone through so much worse than him, but remained pure of heart. His manners were that of the Dark Pure-Blood families, elegant and graceful, and yet, he never showed any sign of hating the Potters, who had taken his childhood, his innocence, his virginity.

But, he reflected as he sipped his drink, their cases were complete opposites at the same time, for where Voldemort had been abused by ignorant Muggles and had had no idea of his heritage until he turned eleven, Hadrian, on the other hand, had been raised by a wizard and a witch, and beaten repeatedly ever since he was but a babe.

Most likely told all sorts of horrors ever since he was able to understand, told he was a mistake, and abused to within an inch of death. The Dark Lord, for all he had suffered, had had the luck -he realized that now, to keep his virginity until he wanted to shed it, and never to be too verbally abused. And whatever 'freaks!' and insults had been thrown to his face he ignored, because he had known from an early age that they were the mundane, where _he_ was extraordinary, above average, both in intellect and in that strange power he had to make things happen when he wanted them to.

Something nobody else could do.

Hadrian Black had never had the consolation of having some kind of power over the ones bullying him. His 'parents' had been magic-users, and had obviously used it against him. He had been treated worse than an house-elf, mistreated and starved, by the people who should have loved him. Voldemort had had nobody. But Hadrian had _parents_.

And that made it all the more painful and shocking because they were the very ones he should have been able to turn to for comfort and safety, but they had only brought him pain and sorrow, and loss. A terrible, gaping loss.

Voices tore him out of his musings, and he heard quick footsteps before Draco appeared in the doorway, his cheeks flushed from the cold and his eyes glinting with animation. He stopped briefly at the sight of him, and bowed.

"My Lord." He greeted, before turning to the other three. "Mother, Father, Uncle Sev."

"Draco. How was your trip?"

The young man walked in, and took a seat, before turning to the door and beckoning Hadrian over. The Gryffindor, who had been hovering in the doorway, stepped forward with his usual reserved gait, and greeted each and everyone of them silently. The Dark Lord immediately noticed that he was wearing new robes, which clung to his thin frame, revealing his fragile build and showing how small he really was. However desirable he was with those clothes, that sight only made the man tighten his grip on his glass until his knuckles were white, furious to even think about the hunger the poor boy had had to go through to reach such levels of skinniness.

"Nice robes you have here, Hadrian." Lucius commented approvingly. "They fit you well."

"And that color is perfect for you, except that you're as thin as a stick." Narcissa added. "You need to eat much more than that, young man, this is far from healthy."

The Black heir inclined his head in submission, but said nothing. A normal child would have rolled his eyes, made a fiery answer maybe, or smiled at their concern, pleased to see that they cared about him. But he didn't. No light came to brighten those dark eyes, and no smile came to those soft lips. There were a few minutes during which Draco spoke animatedly, talking about their little outing, how they had dragged the unfortunate Gryffindor into clothing store after clothing store, and how Pansy, Daphne and Millicent had had the time of their lives playing dress-up with him, saying that it would be unbecoming for him to be seen wearing anything less than the finest quality they could find, especially if he was going to claim his inheritance as the last male Black heir.

Hadrian said nothing the whole time, merely enjoying his lukewarm Butterbeer as he gazed absently at the roaring fire, his sculptural face lighted by the flames the shadows of which enhanced the sharp angles of his features eerily. He was beautiful, Voldemort thought as he watched him quietly, beautiful, just like a Fallen Angel. Though the image would usually have him snorting in mockery, he couldn't deny that it was the only thing he could liken him to in this moment, with his hair the color of ebony, deep blue eyes staring at the fire in mournful contemplation, pale complexion and a long-fingered hand gracefully holding a glass he delicately rose to his pink lips from time to time, dark eyelashes shadowing his eyes and brushing his cheekbones in pleasure when the liquid warmed his throat.

He was, Voldemort noticed, sitting a little stiffly still, a proof that if his injuries had been healed, he was still feeling quite sore, and maybe wasn't completely comfortable here. The Dark Lord couldn't blame him for his lack of trust: though it was obvious he trusted Draco enough to include him in his secret, the pair had known each other for years, and were the same age, while the adults Hadrian barely knew. And he had been as good as forcefully shipped off to Malfoy Manor, his custody taken from his 'parents' and his life upturned in a matter of minutes. Of course he wouldn't trust them. Yet, for some reason, it made Voldemort's stomach twist with a feeling he couldn't place.

"How was your trip?" He asked quietly, curious to see what the boy had to say about it. Draco was still talking animatedly to his parents and godfather, and so they wouldn't be disturbed in their conversation.

Hadrian looked up, seemingly to check that it was him the Lord was talking to, and then immediately lowered his eyes on his glass.

"It was good. Draco and the girls had a lot of fun playing dress-up."

His voice was completely toneless, neutral, as if he didn't care in the least, or had been taught never to express anything, which was very likely: either the Potters had punished him whenever he showed any kind of emotions, or he had understood that the best way for him to survive would be never to show what he thought. A truly Slytherin way of thinking. But Voldemort knew by experience that often, bullies love the sounds of distress of their victims. Hadrian must be an extraordinary Occlumens if he mastered his emotions to that extent.

"With you as a doll, I presume?" He couldn't keep the amusement from his voice.

Dark blue eyes flashed up to his face, then back down.

"Indeed."

The Dark Lord hummed and took a sip of Brandy. They kept silent for a while, before he spoke again. He wanted to hear more of that low voice, those smooth tones, see more of these pink lips moving. The boy was too perfect to be human; he was fascinating.

"I started the paperwork for you to claim the Black estate."

Something indescribable flashed in the dark blue orbs, but the boy said nothing.

"The Blacks are a very old and wealthy family, as I am sure you know, and as the sole male heir, you will inherit everything they have. Believe me when I say that's quite a lot."

A nod.

"The process should be over by the next week since I am speeding it up, but you will need to go to Gringotts with me to sign the final paperwork."

Again, Hadrian inclined his head.

"This will be the final step of your leaving the Potters. You will be completely independent."

Nothing. He was starting to grow annoyed. Why the hell wasn't the boy reacting? He glanced around. The Malfoys and Severus were still there, and he wanted to speak to the boy alone, so he focused back on him.

"Have you ever been in the gardens?"

"Yes I have."

"Did you like it?"

"They're beautiful." The reverence in his voice said far more than that, and the Dark Lord found himself hiding the soft smile it brought to his lips.

"Would you like to take a walk there with me?" He was careful to keep it a question, and not an order or a demand, and he knew the boy had noticed when narrowed dark blue eyes settled on his face, searching for something, calculating the odds that it be some kind of elaborate trap. He must have seen something reassuring, though, because he gave a cultured nod and stood as fluidly as his sore body allowed him.

"Very well." He said softly.

o-O-o

After that, Voldemort came by more often, to keep the boy company. He was, he found, as intelligent if not more than what Draco had told them, and he enjoyed conversing with him immensely. Talking with him often brought him a new insight on things, and if it also helped the boy to open up, then it was killing two birds with one stone. He discreetly broached government problems in the conversation, and often left with solutions he would never have thought of, or dismissed as risky.

Hadrian was indeed a genius.

And the Dark Lord found himself looking forward more and more to their daily meetings. He liked to think, after seeing the corner of the young man's quirk up when he saw him once, that he was equally pleased to see him. Oh, he was nowhere near the point of trusting him, but if they weren't friends yet, at least Hadrian somewhat enjoyed his company and seemed to open up a little more. It was a slow process: at first, he never spoke unless spoken to, just listened. But as the days passed and the Dark Lord kept coming and talking, never pressuring him into anything, the faraway look of polite interest on his face gradually faded away into a genuinely interested expression, and one day, Voldemort found himself being stared at intently by two deep blue eyes, the color of which he had never seen anywhere else. It was... breathtaking, thrilling even, and he _liked_ _it_.

Then, Hadrian spoke up for the first time, three small words of involvement in the conversation which saddened and angered the older man just as much as they satisfied him.

"I never did."

He had been talking about how he had enjoyed reading child stories when he had been able to sneak into the orphanage's poor library. And Hadrian's answer had been straight to the point: he had never had the occasion to even lay his hands on a child's book. Why, he never said. But Voldemort hoped that with time, he would talk about it, and allow them to bear a little of his burden, help him alleviate the terrible weight of the monstrous past his keepers -for there was no other words for them except for torturers, had inflicted upon him.

o-O-o

"Hadrian?"

The young man looked up from his book.

"My Lord." He greeted, standing to his feet.

The man gestured for him to sit back down, and put a thin folder on the table between them.

"The Black inheritance claiming papers." He merely said.

Hadrian nodded impassively and read them over before signing them. His signature, Voldemort noticed immediately, was very neat, elegant and stylish, even though he most likely never had had any reason to practice having a proper one, seeing as, had things gone the way his parents wanted it, he would never have made it until the day he could claim any inheritance, let alone take his place as a Lord. This, however, didn't make him miss the sudden hardening of the younger male's features when he had broached the subject of the Blacks, and he wondered what it was that upset him so, but couldn't for the life of him figure this out.

He inwardly promised himself he would investigate the matter. In the few weeks they had known each other, he had come to care quite deeply for the boy, something which had puzzled him at first, and which he had resisted, before understanding the reasons behind that attachment, and relenting. The boy, he knew, had had a horrid childhood, even more so than himself, and for that alone, he could relate to him, and found he felt some kind of kinship between them. The time, though, had yet to come when he would speak about it to the boy.

Hadrian wasn't ready yet. He hadn't opened up fully, and was still quite far from fully trusting anyone apart from Draco. The progress Voldemort had already made with him was astounding considering the fact he was male, an adult male, at that, and a figure of authority, three things James Potter had been. The young Malfoy, on the other hand, had the noticeable advantage that he was the same age, and held a very small amount of formal authority, making him far more accessible to the abused child.

He was torn from his thoughts by the young man's quiet stare, and saw that the papers were signed, and had been neatly put away in their folder.

"We need to go to Gringotts now, if you're available. It would be best to have this done and over with as soon as possible."

The young man merely nodded and stood, ready to follow. They walked out of the manor and towards the edge of the wards after warning Narcissa that Hadrian was leaving for a while, then stopped once they felt the anti-apparition barrier cease to weight over them. Voldemort turned to his young companion.

"I will apparate us both over to Diagon Alley, if you don't mind."

He waited, careful not to let the strange nervousness he couldn't help but feeling from showing on his face. He was, after all, the almighty Dark Lord, he didn't get anxious for such a small thing as side-along apparition.

_Well_, a small voice nagged at the back of his mind, _that might have been, but it wasn't everyday you had to apparate an abused teenager who, given his level of knowledge, most likely knew how to do it by himself already, and was very likely to start screaming as soon as you touched him. _

He ignored it and almost started when the younger man took a slow step towards him, blue eyes guarded as he stared at the hand he held out. He walked closer very slowly, and the Dark Lord made sure he stood very still, eyes never wavering from the frail figure coming ever closer to him.

Hadrian stopped about an inch or two away from him and froze, but he didn't move. The young man didn't look away from the hand. His body was as tense as a bowstring, his fists clenched at his side as he appeared to be fighting against himself not to run, and his lips pursed in concentration, eyes narrowed as he detailed the open palm and long fingers.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he slowly looked up, letting his eyes sweep over the Dark Lord's tall, toned body before settling on his face. Crimson eyes, a far cry from the angry hazel orbs he was so used to see, stared calmly back at him in a final testimony of what he already knew, but had the urging need to prove once more: that man was nothing like James Potter. The Ruler's hair was neat and dark brown instead of black, his body lean and tall where his abuser had been quite small for a man, and he had shown time and again that he wasn't interested in forcing him to do anything.

And so he waited, and...

o-O-o

To trust or not to trust?

That was the question, and Hadrian could only stand there, gazing at the Dark Lord' offered hand. This, he knew, would be a turning point for both him and Voldemort. Because right now, the man was giving him a very simple choice.

Before, every time someone touched him was to hurt him: James Potter either hit or raped him, and Lily wasn't any better, while Peter Pettigrew absolutely loved getting his fun too. His first months at Hogwarts had been true hell: people everywhere, bumping into him, touching him, talking and yelling, sometimes at him... He had barely managed to keep his panic to himself, and had actually slept in a dark corner for the two first years. The bed was too large, overly exposed, and soft and clean, something he wasn't used to. Something mistakes should never have.

But then, Draco, had waltzed into his life without so much as asking for permission, and started to touch him. It was almost nothing at first, a mere brushing of his clothes, getting a piece of paper or a twig out of his hair, then ruffling the black locks briefly, but he always kept his touch so light Hadrian barely noticed the gesture before it was over. And when the blonde had eventually found out his secret, he had showed him that it was in his interest to let himself be touched. The blonde could be very delicate when he wanted, and when he rubbed healing pastes and balms onto the open welts of his back and his multiple bruises, very careful.

But now, now he was confronted to a similar, yet different choice.

Lord Voldemort was the ruler of the Wizarding World. He was a grown man, an adult, one of those who abused him, a powerful figure of authority, and yet...

Yet, he was so far from anything else he'd ever known. Powerful but controlled, beautiful but lonely, elegant but soft-spoken. He was nothing like he, Hadrian, had ever known. He never pushed, never insisted, just let him take things at his own pace, and if he didn't want to speak, then he did all the talking.

Allowing him to touch him would be showing the man some trust. A _lot_ of trust, in fact. Because it would then mean he trusted him with his body. He trusted him to keep him safe. And now he had to ask himself: did he?

Dark blue eyes met shining crimson as his gaze came to rest on Voldemort's handsome face, and he almost did a double-take at the deep glint that flashed through them. Looking more closely, he could see nothing but honesty on those defined features, and he remembered the hours the man had spent with him, either in the gardens, the library, the living room with a book, talking, reading, or merely sitting in companionable silence.

Voldemort was a busy man. He most likely had other things to do than spend time with the pathetic excuse of a wizard that Hadrian was.

And so Hadrian made his decision.

o-O-o

He could see the raging fight in those tortured navy blue eyes, self-preservation instinct against hope, fear of trusting and getting hurt, of defying all the principles he had had pounded in his head throughout all of his 'childhood' by experience and the angry voice of the people who were supposed to hold him tight instead of pounding on him with their fists and everything sharp or hard they could find.

So focused was he on the gorgeous face in front of him that he almost started when something brushed over his palm, retreated, brushed it again, once, twice... before settling onto it. He could feel the racing pulse at Hadrian's wrist, and the shaking of the small hand in his palm, before, very slowly, he closed his fingers over the slim hand and released the breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding.

Slowly, with a care he hadn't known he possessed, he slipped an arm around the waist of the now openly trembling teenager, and gently pulled him towards him, but not too close so as not to push him over the edge. This was already an immense step forward. He had no wish whatsoever to spoil the progress by being too hasty.

Laying a light hand on the dark black locks in an appeasing gesture, Lord Voldemort apparated over to Diagon Alley with Hadrian Black, future Head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black.

* * *

><p><strong>Soooo, what did you think about it? I am aware that you may feel like the relationship is moving too quickly, but this is a short fic, so I'll be skipping time quite quickly. I'm trying to make it believable anyway. <strong>

**I didn't proofread myself, I wanted to put the chapter online asap seeing as it's been two months since I published the first one, I hope there aren't too many mistakes, and if there are, tell me so I can correct them, thank you.**

**Reviews are to the author what milk is to a cat^^!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Shadow Child  
><strong>By Tango Dancer

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><p><strong>Hey everyone!<strong>** OMG, can you believe it? I know I barely can, but... Here's chapter 3! I just finished writing it, after overcoming a monstrous writer's block the size of Mount Everest -at least!**

**I hope it's up to your expectations, I don't know if it's good or not^^! **

**And so, great news everyone, this will be, obviously, longer than 3 chapters, cheers!**

**Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed, it was great, and I felt so bad when I couldn't find a single line to write... Without all of you, I wouldn't have been so motivated to kick my writer's block in the arse and finish this chapter. **

**And here it is! Thank you, reviewers, it's thanks to you! **

**Anyway... Keep reviewing, lol! **

**Hope there aren't too many language mistakes, tell me if there are and I'll correct them, I was so happy I had wrapped the chapter up, that I rushed to post it, so...**

**On to the story!  
><strong>

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><p><span>Chapter 3:<span>

They reappeared in a dark alley, away from the flood of people crowding Diagon Alley. Hadrian shoved himself away from Voldemort, almost tripping over his own feet in his desperate attempt to get away and to safety. He ended up flattened against the wall, struggling to stop his body's convulsive shaking, and get a grip on himself.

The Dark Lord didn't move, giving him time to gather his composure, knowing that trying to touch him would only further panic him. He could, however, try talking to him. And so he started whispering soothing words, words of comfort he had never ever thought he would utter one day, words nobody had ever said to him, words that this unusual child had brought forth from the very depths of his heart and up until they were spilling from his lips in an endless flow he couldn't -and wouldn't stop. He could hardly believe it. And somehow, he couldn't bring himself to care that he was being completely out of character.

He had finally found a kindred soul after over sixty years of solitude.

He wasn't about to let go.

It was only after a very long and very short time -they were both far too engrossed in their situation to keep track of time, that the trembling of the young man's body finally eased, and he straightened up from his position against the harsh stone wall, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. Then, he took a hesitant step towards the older man, and bowed with as much grace as he could muster after his episode and with the stiffness of his recently healed wounds.

"Forgive me my Lord. It seems I- lost my composure." He said, his voice low, eyes guarded.

"It does not matter." Voldemort said, careful to keep his voice steady. "Are you feeling better now? We could come back another time and floo over rather than apparate."

Navy blue eyes briefly met his, but it was enough for him to see the determination there.

"No, my Lord. I'm sure you have better things to do than dealing with my- quirks."

Voldemort rose an eyebrow at the wording, but didn't comment and nodded instead.

"Very well then. Let us go."

And so they exited the shady alley and started walking down Diagon Alley. They kept close but not too much, and the Dark Lord's presence made it so that people wouldn't mob them or bump into them, giving them a wide berth instead, which was perfect for the agoraphobia his parents' treatment of him had started in Hadrian.

A goblin was standing in front of them as soon as they had come into the bank, and was quick to lead them to a more private room, where he introduced himself as Sharpclaw, Manager of the Black accounts, and pulled out the papers Hadrian needed to sign. Thirty minutes later, the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black had a new Lord, and Hadrian Potter had become Lord Hadrian Black, a soon-to-be seventeen, forcefully emancipated protégé of the Dark Lord's.

"Come, Lord Black," Voldemort said with a hint of satisfaction in his voice, "we need to have new robes made that become your status in society."

The young man nodded and followed him to Twilfit and Tatting's, where the Dark Lord had him fitted for several sets of dressrobes embroidered with the Blacks' crest. Once they were done, the young man was surprised to see the older wizard take him to a small restaurant at the edge of a cliff, overlooking the ocean, and had the most delicious meal in his life. A celebration, Voldemort said, for his new status and freedom. Throughout the meal, the man kept staring at him, his eyes so intense it took everything he had not to give in to the urge to fidget. It was like the Dark Lord's gaze was trying to see through him, into his very soul, to read his every feeling and thought. It was disturbing.

And at the same time, it was... almost flattering. To think that the Dark Lord, the ruler of the wizarding world, actually found you interesting enough to observe you in such a way... But Hadrian knew better than to expect the man to keep this up. He obviously wanted _something_, everybody did, and when he got it, he would up and leave, just like everybody always did.

_But Draco_, a small voice whispered in the back of his head.

Yes, he found himself agreeing. But Draco. Draco was special. He had no idea what the blonde saw in him that had made him stick by him all those years, help him and support him when he so desperately needed it, but he guessed the Malfoy heir had enough of everything to afford this strange interest he had taken in a lonely Gryffindor. He was the only one to have noticed his existence in first year, the only who had noticed, beyond that, that something was wrong. The only one who had bothered to find out what it was, and then actually do something about it. He was the one person who had pushed and pushed until Hadrian finally gave in and let him in, let him see the utter disaster that was his life, the utter wreck he was under the mask of the aloof know-it-all pureblood child. Not that he was one to stick his hand up in the air and suck up to the teachers, no. Hadrian was discreet. He rarely if ever spoke up in public, and merely showed his academic proficiency in written exams, or when called upon -which never happened.

He had been almost immediately outcast at Hogwarts. His... guardians had made it clear from a very early age that he wasn't worth anything, a second of _normal_ people's time, and that his very existence was an insult to their sight, that he shouldn't even be allowed to breathe the same air as them.

For years he had hold on thanks to the tiniest flicker of hope, the thought that once he got to Hogwarts, everything would be different. He would find friends, build up his own reputation, maybe have good grades which would make his parents see he wasn't as worthless as they said. And so he had thrown himself into his studies, reading late into the night and rising early while trying to befriend a few kids. Hermione Granger had seemed like him, someone who loved books and learning, and so he had tried to talk to her, but once she had seen him best her in academics, she had pushed him away, accusing him of cheating, while Weasley and the rest of the Gryffindor boys of his year shunned him because he refused to cause mayhem and generally preferred making sure he had top marks rather than postponing doing his homework in favor of talking about Quidditch and playing chess.

He had become the Gryffindor black sheep. They said he behaved like a stuck up pureblood. They said he wasn't like them. They said he didn't belong.

That he should have been a slimy Slytherin.

He thought they were right.

Why he had been sorted into Gryffindor, he had no idea, but it had happened, and suddenly, there was no hope for him anymore. So he had started fading into the background again, going as far as to cast notice-me-not spells on himself to further avoid notice, and given up on trying to befriend anyone. Despite his more than excellent grades, the teachers failed to notice him too, and he pretty much disappeared from the student body's consciousness.

And slowly, the loneliness had grown and grown and grown, until he couldn't stand the pressure anymore.

He had gone to the bathroom one night, intent on putting an end on all of this.

Draco had found him there, his wrists sliced open and his blood dripping down the milky white skin and onto the floor, tears silently running down his sunken cheeks as dull emerald eyes watched the crimson liquid with morbid fascination. He had healed him, not giving a thought to his weak protests, and stayed with him throughout the night when he passed out, holding him to his chest, sitting down in the dirty cubicle once he had vanished the blood.

They would have parted without a word in the morning if not for Draco's quiet inquiry.

"What's your name?"

Hadrian, who had been walking away already, had frozen. He had stood there for a long moment, and Draco had patiently waited for an answer which, when it had come, had left him thunderstruck.

"Harry Potter."

And then he had disappeared amongst the shadows of the darkened hallway.

Draco had looked after that. The notice-me-not charm had been broken when he had noticed the younger boy, and it hadn't taken long for him to see everything 'Harry' had wanted to hide. He had started talking to him in deserted hallways, at night, between classes, after break, whenever he could find him and talk to him without anyone noticing. If the Gryffindor wanted to keep going unnoticed, he would respect that. It didn't mean he had to go through whatever he was going through by himself, though. And Draco was more than able to help. To an extent, at least, and if things didn't degenerate too much.

It had taken two years for him to finally earn Harry's trust. Two long years of seeing things go worse and not being able to do anything except provide potions and balms before the dreaded question had come.

"Why are you doing this?" 'Harry' had asked one night.

They had been sitting in the Astronomy tower, enjoying the last remaining summer warmth before winter came and settled in.

"Why?"

Draco had chuckled, running an elegant hand through his blonde hair. The moonlight danced in the almost silver strands, giving them an ethereal glow, and Hadrian had felt his breath catch in his throat. The other boy was so beautiful... "I have no idea."

That hadn't been what he had expected to hear, but he had nodded anyway. He didn't have the slightest clue as to why he was trusting a boy who was the exact opposite of everything that made him the outcast he was.

But Draco wasn't finished.

"There's just something..." Silver-blue eyes had locked in his intently. "You're different. And the pain you're in... I couldn't live with myself if I just let it be. Such loneliness shouldn't exist."

He had left it at that. And the issue had never come up again. But from then on, Hadrian had been more open with him. He had gone as far as to rely on Draco to brew or look after his potions when himself couldn't or felt too bad to do it. He had eventually told him the truth about his parentage, and his home life, not that the young Malfoy hadn't guessed that part already.

Each and every year, the blonde went and found him in the train, potions in his pockets to tend to his summer injuries and allow him to pull his charade off at the start of term feast. Each and every year, he would help him, hold him, wordlessly comfort him -Hadrian wasn't a man of many words. It had been pounded into his skull from an early age that he should endure in silence, and never complain to anyone. That he was a freak, a burden, an abomination of nature. A mistake. Draco worked on that. He tried to prove to him how wonderful he truly was.

He was the only reason Hadrian was still alive.

"-drian? Hadrian?"

The young man blinked, only to find concern-filled crimson eyes locked on his face.

"My Lord?"

"You spaced out."

He bowed his head in apology.

"Forgive me, my Lord."

The man waved it off.

"Nonsense, no need to apologize. What's on your mind?"

Hadrian looked away. Voldemort let it go, pointed at his plate.

"Do you want something else?"

"Thank you, I have had enough."

"Let us go, then. Do you have an owl? A pet of some kind?"

The new Lord Black shook his head.

"Well then, we should find one. After all, as Lord Black, you will have business to do, letters to send, people to write. Therefore, you should have an owl worthy of your rank. And a familiar is always good for protection... and loneliness."

The way he said that last word spoke of experience, and dark blue eyes darted up at his face as Hadrian wondered about the man's past and what had happened to him that he would unknowingly put such emotion in a single word. He quickly looked back down, though, not wanting to be caught. The man was the ruler of the wizarding world. Someone like him would never get to know anything about him, especially not something as personal as his childhood.

They headed to Eeylops Owl Emporium in almost companionable silence. The clerk bowed hurriedly and far too deeply for it to be since when he saw who had come into his shop.

"We are only looking." He said with a dismissing wave of his hand.

The short man understood and was quick to go back and stand behind his counter, though he kept staring avidly, following each and every one of their moves with burning curiosity. Hadrian fought the urge to cast a notice-me-not charm on himself, unused as he was to be gawked at. He regretted his anonymity. In the end, he settled for a dark silver falcon with black spots on his feathers. The bird looked feral with its harsh yellow eyes, and returned his gaze steadily. He liked its defiance and obvious stubbornness. He looked like a fighter, and saw he christened it Ares. They left with a cage and treats, then headed to the Magical Menagerie.

Apparently, the Dark Lord had decided that he should have a familiar, both for protection and company. He didn't protest. Having a familiar, someone who would genuinely like him for him sounded nice, and he liked the idea of having a non-human companion. Ignoring the shopkeeper's hurried greetings once again, they slowly made their way around the shop, looking at the animals, before stopping in front of a cage. Inside was a small panther cub. It was black as the darkest night with blue eyes, and Hadrian couldn't help but be reminded of himself as he watched how the other cubs cast it out. The small beast was currently looking at them with something akin to hope in its blue eyes, and he felt a deep longing swell in his heart as he looked at it.

Gently, he slid off the lid of the container and allowed it to sniff his hand before lifting it up and gathering it in his arms, against his chest. He let his hand run over the soft fur lightly, scratching it gently behind the ears, and couldn't help the small smile from lighting his face at the resulting purr. Close to him, Voldemort watched on, amazed at the way the simple smile had changed his features, casting a new light of soft gentleness and pure goodness over his face. This was too good to be true, he couldn't believe he was standing by such a gorgeous creature.

And yet, he mused as he watched the panther cub and the wizard bond, here he was, standing in the Magical Menagerie of Diagon Alley with a seventeen-year-old man -for he could not be called a child after what he had been put through, helping him chose a familiar, and settle his affairs. This was unusual, and he would usually not have bothered. Yet, just as Draco Malfoy had, he found himself, against all odds, enjoying this. He wanted to know Hadrian Black better. He wanted to bask in the pure warmth and light the young man exuded, the simple kindness that was him.

And so he smiled when said young man announced he had made his choice, and headed to the counter, waving off his protests that he could pay. A few minutes later, they were out on the Alley.

"What will you name it?"

"Him, it's a male." Hadrian corrected gently. "I don't know yet." He looked down at the panther cub in his arms. "His eyes are like a fresh spring. Maybe I will call him Alu."

'Alu.' 'Water' in elven. Voldemort inclined his head.

"Soft and flowing, like he is. It is a good name."

"Thank you, my Lord."

He wished the young man would drop the formalities. But it was too early, he knew. And so he let it go.

o-O-o

He watched through the window of his room as the Dark Lord walked up the path to the house, Hadrian by his side. From what his father had told him, they had gone to settle the matter of his inheritance, and sigh the last papers for his emancipation, so that he would be able to take on the mantle of Head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. They had been gone for most of the day, though, and he doubted they had only done that. The Dark Lord, he had noticed, seemed extremely interested in his brother in all but blood, though he had no idea what for. He feared that it was only a passing interest, though, and that the man would break Hadrian's heart a little more. It had taken him two years of continuous effort to earn his young cousin's trust and help him. He wasn't about to let anyone crush seven years of hard work, Dark Lord or not.

Draco was about to turn away from the window to go and greet his brother when something unusual caught his attention. Something was huddled in Hadrian's arms, something black and moving... and there was an unknown falcon flying towards them. He frowned. The Dark Lord had actually taken the time to take his brother to the Magical Menagerie of all places? What was his goal?

Shaking his head, he knew he wouldn't get any answers by just standing there, and so he exited his room, carefully shutting the door behind him, pleased to feel the wards springing up to life as soon as his hand had left the door handle. Turning, he made his way down the stairs.

o-O-o

"Oh my God, he's so _cute_!"

Hadrian watched with carefully hidden amusement as Draco winced at Pansy's shrill tone, and Alu stared at her with big blue eyes, visibly torn between fear and overwhelming curiosity. Curiosity won over fear, though, as he wriggled his way out of his young companion's arms and awkwardly walked over to the Slytherin girl, who crouched and held out her hand for him to sniff, stars literally shining in her eyes as she watched him with ill-concealed adoration. She cooed when the panther cub let her caress his sleek fur, ignoring her classmates' eye-rolling.

They were enjoying a fun-filled evening in the drawing room, the adults, seated by the fire, watching them. Hadrian, though he hadn't said much, still had an amused glint in his eyes which filled Draco, his parents and the Dark Lord with warmth. The young man had been thoroughly embarrassed when they had all congratulated him for becoming Lord Black, and then had a toast, wishing him a good life, success and happiness in both business and love, the slightest tinge of pink gently gracing his pale cheeks. It had not escaped the Dark Lord's notice how the females in the room had all silently melted at that, while the males smiled protectively.

The young man, he thought, was on his way to recovery. And that, for some reason he couldn't fathom, was enough to send warmth bubbling through his chest and a small smile on his lips, while his gaze, he was sure, must hold a sappy softness he would have never thought he was capable of.

Then again, he would never have thought that someone, a _Gryffindor_, could have caught and held the attention of so many Slytherins at once without even trying. It was strange, it was overwhelming.

And at the same time, it was somehow right.

And Voldemort, for the first time in his life, felt that he would give everything to protect someone other than himself.

o-O-o

**Malfoy Manor, December 25, 05:00 A.M. **

"Hey, wake up! I want to open my presents already!"

Hadrian woke with a start, and glanced outside the window. It was still dark outside, and he couldn't help the dread suddenly filling his stomach. He _hadn't_-

A quick _Tempus_ crushed his illusions like a bug under a heavy boot.

It was 5 in the morning.

Draco had dared.

"Draco..." He started, his voice low and menacing, and suddenly, all of the blonde's enthusiasm seemed to vanish like a puff of smoke. He gulped.

"Y-yes, Slythindor?"

"Don't you 'yes Slythindor' me. Did you even look at the time before you came here and _woke me up_?"

Draco started backing away, his hands raised in front of him in an appeasing gesture.

"Hum- well- the thing is, I might- hum- have gotten carried away, and- hum- you see-" He gulped again as Hadrian's eyes turned almost black and Alu started growling at him as he stirred on the bed.

"I think I'll go now."

And with that, he ran away.

"Shut the damn door!" Hadrian screamed in a very out-of-character way.

Draco's blonde head popped back in for a second, and he swallowed and gave a smile which looked more like a grimace than anything as he saw two pairs of blue eyes glistening eerily in the dark, glaring at him.

"Sorry! Sleep well!"

The door shut, and Hadrian let himself fall back down onto the bed. Throwing an arm over his eyes, he couldn't help the smile which slowly stretched his lips. Draco was the best thing he had in his life, and he thanked whatever deities willing to listen for putting him on his path everyday. His kindness, his naive maturity, his childishness and- _everything_ in him reminded the Gryffindor that not everybody in the world was like his former guardians, and that some people were actually worth living for. He was like the very embodiment of everything that was good on this Earth.

Alu came to lay by his side, and he ran a hand through the thick black fur gently, earning a rumbling purr from the half-asleep panther cub. Smiling to himself, he rolled on his side and fell back asleep, knowing that it was only a matter of hours before Draco came back. This would be his first Christmas out of Hogwarts or his guardians' house, and he felt anticipation throbbing in his gut at the perspective. How would it be? Who would be there? Would it be restricted to the Malfoys, or would others be present, like the Dark Lord and Snape? Would he get presents?

_Of course not. Freaks like you are only good enough to give, not receive_. A nasty little voice which sounded horribly like his 'father' quipped in his head. _Why would anyone bother_?

The smile slid off his face, and he fought against the tears, but the stinging in his eyes soon became too much to bear, and he buried his face in his pillow to muffle the sounds of his crying as the fabric absorbed the tears and got wet. Alu nuzzled his neck gently, obviously alarmed by the distress of his bonded, and Hadrian turned over on his back and took him in his arms, holding him tightly against his chest and kissing the top of his head gently, a shaky chuckle making its way through the tears as the feline licked his chin soothingly.

"Thanks, Alu. I guess you're the only one who'll never judge me for what I am."

The purr got louder and the panther cub nuzzled him again before getting comfortable, and that's how they fell asleep.

o-O-o

At nine in the morning, the Dark Lord flooed in, soon followed by Snape, and found the Malfoys eating breakfast. The blondes were quick to invite them to join in, and it wasn't long before the Potions Master noticed his godson's mussed up look.

"Well, Draco, what happened to you?"

The boy looked down at his breakfast, and poked at his eggs with his fork, while mumbling something under his breath.

"Excuse me?" Severus said, amused. "I'm afraid I didn't catch that."

"I said: I might have gotten a little too enthusiastic and woken someone up a little early."

"Would that someone happen to be Hadrian?" Voldemort asked.

Draco's cheeks turned red. Lucius and Narcissa looked on, apparently feeling the whole situation was awfully funny, if the Malfoy Lord's twitching lips and his wife's twinkling eyes was anything to go by.

"Yes, my Lord. He was- displeased."

"I can imagine that." The man smiled. "Shall I go and wake him up, then? I am sure he will not attack me if I do."

This gained some startled looks from the three males, while Narcissa's eyes took on a knowing glint, and she nodded.

"Please proceed, my Lord. His room is the third on the left on the first floor."

"Thank you."

Rising from his chair, he made his way up to the room, knocked briefly and then stepped in quietly, shutting the door behind himself as he looked around. Everything was perfectly clean and ordered, the boy was very organized, but it was a little disturbing to think that he was only sixteen, and this neatness was most likely something which had been pounded into him from an early age with fists and other heavy objects.

Shaking his head, the Dark Lord made his way over to the bed, and smiled at the peaceful image the boy and his panther cub made as they slept on, blissfully unaware of the intruder towering over them. Voldemort let his eyes sweep over the silky black hair, pale skin, defined features and slender fingers, and felt his smile fade into a frown as he noticed how thin the boy still was, and the tear tracks on his cheeks. It looked like he had cried at some point during the night, and he gripped at his chest as his heart clenched for the small Lord Black's misery.

o-O-o

When he woke up again, it was to the feeling of a hand carding through his hair gently, as if he were precious, breakable, a fragile piece of intricate glass. As if the person doing this wanted nothing more than to love him, hold him and protect him, as if someone actually cared enough about him to want to comfort him. And this feeling was so alien, so _strange_, so opposed to everything his guardians had ever taught him, that it could only ever be a dream, and the mere thought that this wasn't real was enough to make tears slide through his close eyelids and roll down his cheeks once again.

The hand paused at that, and then, suddenly, strong arms wrapped around him comfortingly, held him to a toned chest and allowed him to hide his face in the folds of their clothes as he cried, his tears soaking the expensive robes the man was wearing as he whispered comforting words, sweet nothings in his ear, rubbing his back and rocking back and forth to soothe him.

_I'll sing it one last time for you  
>Then we really have to go<br>You've been the only thing that's right  
>In all I've done <em>

He barely heard the first lyrics through his sobs. Somehow, the soothing words had turned into a low melody, and he could only listen.

_And I can barely look at you  
>But every single time I do<br>I know we'll make it anywhere  
>Away from here <em>

The voice was low, and he could feel the sounds echo in the chest he was resting against. Tears still run down his face, and he tightened his grip on the robes.

_Light up, light up  
>As if you have a choice<br>Even if you cannot hear my voice  
>I'll be right beside you dear <em>

It was like a promise. A promise far too good for someone like him. It couldn't be true. And yet...

_Louder louder  
>And we'll run for our lives<br>I can hardly speak I understand  
>Why you can't raise your voice to say <em>

Was this all really a dream? He didn't want it to be. He needed this person so desperately, because somewhere deep inside, he knew he understood at least a part of what he'd been through.

_To think I might not see those eyes  
>Makes it so hard not to cry<br>And as we say our long goodbyes  
>I nearly do<em>

Could someone really get attached to him like this? Wish he'd be there when he wasn't? Was it _possible_?

_Light up, light up  
>As if you have a choice<br>Even if you cannot hear my voice  
>I'll be right beside you dear <em>

The promise again. Could it be real? Did he really, as Draco had always said, deserve love and affection like all normal human beings?

_Louder louder  
>And we'll run for our lives<br>I can hardly speak I understand  
>Why you can't raise your voice to say <em>

This was nice. He liked it, knew he shouldn't. And somehow, he found himself starting to believe...

_Light up, light up  
>As if you have a choice<br>Even if you cannot hear my voice  
>I'll be right beside you dear <em>

The melody faded into a soft humming, and he realized with shock that his tears had all but faded away, and he was just there, curled in someone's lap, their expensive clothes ruined by his little breakdown, and his fists clenching them so tightly that it was a miracle the fabric hadn't been ripped already. Horrified as he realized that it wasn't a dream and this was really happening, he tried to string away, only to be held down by an iron grip as the soothing words started again and a gentle hand rubbed his back.

"It's okay. It will get better, you'll see. It will all get better. It did for me. It will for you as well, I promise."

The voice -he knew it, just couldn't seem to place it, rambled on quietly, and he found himself relaxing despite everything, while his eyelids dropped. Draco's early awakening, his own emotional outbursts and the man's -he still didn't know who it was, though he suspected he should- kindness were finally taking their toll on him. So he just lay there contentedly, deciding that if he were to be punished later, then he would take it, and there was hardly anything he could to prevent it now anyway. So he would just enjoy this until it turned unpleasant.

After a while, the person pulled away and Hadrian tensed, keeping his head down as he waited for his punishment. But it didn't come.

"Look at me."

He licked his lips nervously, but didn't move. There was a sigh, and then, long fingers wrapped around his chin and lifted his head until his eyes met a crimson gaze. He felt his eyes widen in horror as the fact that he had just cuddled up to the Dark Lord sank in. The man must have seen his fright, though, for he rose his hand deliberately slowly. Hadrian closed his eyes, waiting for the pain.

They snapped open when he only felt a gently caress on his cheek.

"You're so beautiful, child..."

He tensed again. This sentence, he knew, was the kind which announced the _other_ abuse. The things he didn't even want to think about, because it hurt too much, and he was far too ashamed to accept that something so degrading, so _dirty_, had been done to him by his own mother, his guardians, the people supposed to take care of him and threaten his boyfriends when he introduced them.

This didn't escape Voldemort's notice, though, as he cupped his face gently and forced him to meet his gaze.

"Listen to me attentively, Hadrian. I will never, _ever_, force you to do anything you don't want to do. Yes, you are beautiful, the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on, in fact, but it does not mean I will rape you."

Hadrian flinched at that.

"I swore to protect you, Hadrian." Voldemort continued in a softer voice. "And I will. Can you believe me?"

He looked into those mesmerizing crimson eyes, and couldn't look away. Those orbs held so much sincerity, so much conviction, that he could feel his own dull eyes water again as he nodded his head slowly. Relief flooded the Dark Lord's handsome features, and he let go of his chin to wrap his arms around the slender boy's frame again, and hold him to his chest as he dry-sobbed in a mixture of pain, relief, gratitude and despair, clutching at his clothes again. Though it looked like they were back to square one, Voldemort knew better.

The young man had given him his trust, and that in itself was a giant step forward. The fact that he let him touch him like he was was an eye-opening proof of the progress they had made. And he could only stroke his hair and whisper, again, sweet nothings in his ear as Hadrian purged all the emotions he had bottled up inside for so long, hiding them even from Draco.

Because Draco, in spite of all of his good intentions, couldn't understand, not really. And because Voldemort could.

Because they were strikingly alike.

* * *

><p><strong>So, what did you think? Reviews feed the plot-bunnies, as demonstrated by this chapter! <strong>

**Ciao!**

**By the way, the song is _Run_ by Leona Lewis.  
><strong>


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